


Love's Truest Language

by thecolorofstars



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Floralstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecolorofstars/pseuds/thecolorofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You really did not want to move to this stupid Houston suburb. You really did not want to walk all the way to the stupid florist. You really did not think that some stupid guy would make it worth it.</p><p>Now you're thinking that he sort of did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daffodil

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean to let this happen. I swear, I didn't.
> 
> Inspired by kias-kokoro's floralstuck AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is totally 100% based on kias-kokoro's floralstuck AU and you should go check it out because it's awesome.

***

This is definitely not what you thought that you’d be doing this afternoon. Only two weeks ago you were seated happily at your computer in your home back in Washington and now you’re walking to a flower shop in a little suburb of Houston. If you were trying to be a cool douche or something you’d just say Houston, but it would be stretching the truth a little too thin. There’s a little family owned cafe and a little family owned grocery store and a little family owned flower shop and a few other shops, but that’s about it. It hardly counts as Houston at all and you’re starting to feel pretty cheated. At least moving to Houston would have been exciting, but this is just dumb.

“You’ll make new friends,” your dad had promised while you were packing as if that’s what you cared about. You were known school-wide for being the biggest nerd around, so moving away from friends wasn’t a problem at all. His promise is a lie anyway because so far you’ve only seen more and more old people and young families with little kids. You’re sure that anyone you’ll talk to has had family living here for generations. “There will always be a Baggins in Bag End” and all of that stuff. Not you, though, because your dad’s job had only transferred him to Houston about a month ago. Right now you find yourself wishing that he actually was a street performer like he always said he was because street performers don’t get transferred to places where late March feels like the summer death months.

So that’s where you are. Walking through a dumb Houston suburb in the blazing heat on your way to pick up some flowers so that the new house will look happier. Why? Because “it’ll make your Nanna happy, John.” What you wouldn’t give to feel the cool spring breeze on your face again. You finally arrive at the flower shop and to nobody’s surprise it’s a real small town-looking flower shop. On one side of it is a butcher and on the other side is a baker. On top of it is an apartment-type thing that you assume the owners of the shop live in. A true small town, indeed.

The shop itself is actually pretty adorable. The outside of it is painted green and the white sign on the front has “Strider’s Flower Shop” scrawled across it with little floral decorations the corners. There’s huge windows and potted plants are hung and placed carefully out front to give the shop a splash of color. Inside you can see rows and tables of flowers with an open door out back. Despite the cuteness of the little shop, you still wish that you were back in Maple Valley as you step inside.

“John Egbert, right?” the tall blond man at the counter asks the moment that the bell above the door rings.

“Yeah, how did you know?” you ask, your eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

“I’ve never seen you before, so it was a fair bet. Your order’s out back with Dave, he’ll help you carry it to the truck.” His sunglasses have to be the dumbest things you’ve ever seen and you hope to everything that is good and holy that they aren’t some weird fashion trend here.

“There’s, uh, no truck,” you admit sheepishly. Nobody thought that one through.

“Then he’ll help you load it up on a trolley or something. Normally I’d have him carry it back to your house, but he’s got another delivery to run. Sorry, man, we’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“No need, Bro, Mr. Allison stopped by on the way back from the city and said he’d just take them home.”

Whatever you were expecting when you looked over, it isn’t what you see. Strolling through the back door is a fairly tall, tan, blonde guy your age. Freckles speckle his face and, judging by the spots wandering out from under his white t-shirt, probably his shoulders too. He’s got purple velocity shorts on, leaving his legs bare right down to his red and purple sneakers. You’re starting to think that those sunglasses are some sort of weird trend because he’s got them too.

“Oh good. Show the town’s newest kid how we Striders run our shop, okay?” the elder brother says and waves his sibling away.

“Got it. Come on out back and we’ll load up. It’s John right?”

He barely stays in front of you long enough to catch your shy nod. Before you can open your mouth, he’s already out the door. You follow Dave behind the store and your eyes grow wide. Purples and pinks and whites and blues and reds and oranges and every other color of the rainbow are scattered all over the place lining pathways that you walk carefully as to not step on anything. When you finish marveling at the colors, Dave’s already setting flats of flowers on a second small cart.

“You’re going to have to push one of these, sorry,” he says and moves from the cart to a small basket backpack thing with a plant in it. “Normally we deal with ourselves, but it’s pretty rare to get an order this big without a big truck to accompany it.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. My dad sent me down here to pick up the order, but I didn’t really think that he’d order so much that I’d need a car or anything,” you mutter sheepishly.

“‘Sokay,” he replies and pulls the basket backpack on. “I saw you guys drive in and I don’t think yours would handle the dirt well anyway. You don’t sound like you’re from anywhere around here, how far up are you from?”

“Maple Valley, Washington,” you reply and grab a cart, following him as his turns to push the first cart back through the shop.

“That’s pretty far,” he comments with amusement. “Don’t worry, soon enough this good old Texas twang will work its way into your Pacific Northwest.”

“Pacific Northwest?”

“Accent.”

“Oh.”

By the time that you hit the road you’re already you’re struggling to keep up with the blonde. Dave’s in great shape and probably does this constantly, but it’s killing you. You’re going to have to get used to it, you guess. The walk is pretty quiet and you speak up to give him a few directions, but it seems almost like he knows how to get to your house already. He takes a few unprompted turns that turn out to be right and even finds a shortcut. When he doesn’t even ask before turning down the right road, you just have to ask.

“How do you know where I live?”

“My best friend lived there,” he replies simply. “She lived with her grandpa, but he decided to use his last twenty or so years traveling. Jade moved in with her cousin who lives few blocks back, but I used to be over here all the time.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, unsure of how to reply to that. What were you really expecting, him to have taken special care to find out?

The rest of the walk is silent and once you’re to your house he starts unloading things. When you try to help he just waves you away. He empties both carts, but pushes one to the side and instead goes for the potted plant in his backpack basket while muttering something about picking up the second cart later. Once he’s set the plant down and put the pack back on, he finally stands up and looks you dead in the eye. You can’t see it because of those dumb as heck sunglasses, but you can feel it.

“I also happen to keep an eye on the new people in town. You seem like a pretty cool kid, Egbert. If you need anything or have any questions, just ask and I’ll try to help out. I’ll also put a good word in with Jade for you.”

“Thanks, Dave,” you reply with a nervous grin. “Just answer me one thing before you leave.”

“Yeah?”

You’ve got to know.

“What’s with the sunglasses?”

“Ask my bro because I have no clue,” he says with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “I’ll bet you the entire flower selling empire that he’d say irony.”

With that, Dave walks off pushing one of the empty carts. He’s definitely stranger than most people you’ve known, but he seems nice enough. You decide that, while this might not be your Maple Valley, you might not hate this place as much as you thought.

Wait.

How the heck did he know your last name?


	2. Lesser Celandine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finals week and I've finished a bunch of writing. I'm really backwards right now and I need to study for tomorrow's exam, but I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! It's mostly unbeta'd, but some of it was done by Nadiya.

***

It’s been forever and a fucking month since there’s been anyone new around here, let alone someone your age. You know who this guy is from the moment his family enters town in their shiny little car. His name is John Egbert and he’s some teenager from so far up that it’s practically Canada. Rumors say that his dad’s job moved to Houston, but said father would rather live outside the city. Something about wanting his son to have good influences and not grow up to be some trouble-making hooligan. Nobody knows what happened to his mother, but she doesn’t seem to be around. To an outside this probably seems like a lot, but what can you say? Word spreads fast in a town this small.

You’ve got to admit that you’re at least a little interested in getting to know this guy. You were no less than delighted when Mrs. Allison’s husband showed up to relieve you of delivery duties. Actually, you kind of hate him and loaded his truck in record time. Mrs. Allison might be the kindest old lady you’ve ever met, but her husband seems to have forgotten that his days as a greaser are long over. He’s a regular fish out of water here and only seems to stick around for his wife, but that only means that he’s constantly either whiny or angry. You don’t like being around him.

Once you’re done, you just hang out back so that you don’t get sent out again because you’ll be damned if you’re going to miss this. Your thinking is that if you have to help carry some of the flats out to their house you can at least say “hi” or something. If he’s cool then Jade’ll check him out too, but if he’s some city-slicker douchebag you’ll just drop him like he’s hot.

Of course, if you’ve learned anything he’ll probably be like every other teenager who moves into this place. John’s going to radiate the stench of Axe and think he’s too perfect to hang out with the small town geeks, but he’ll be bored out of his mind, so he’ll pretend to be your friend just to waste some time. Eventually his family will find a better place to live with more jobs and a bigger school, so he’ll unceremoniously move out and leave no forwarding address. Just another name scribbled out on the wall of the treehouse.

When you walk back into the shop you get an eyeful of exactly what you didn’t think he’d be. He’s not tall or blond, he’s probably an inch or two shorter than you with messy black hair and eyes that match the forget-me-nots next to him. You’ve never met anyone with eyes that pure and tranquil. Or eyes that are so open, for that matter, because you can tell how nervous he is behind his thick glasses. You know by the time that you leave his driveway that you’re probably going to have a new friend here.

By the time that you’re walking away you still have no clue if that’s quite what happened, but it’s closer than you’ve ever been to a true friendship before.

“Dave!” a cheerful voice calls out later on as you walk back through the shortcut between the Allisons’ house and the Peterson’ house.

“Hey Harley, what’s up?” you reply, waving to her as she runs in for a tackle hug.

Jade Harley has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Everyone knows that she wasn’t born into the town, but nobody is quite sure when the Harley-English family found their way here. They’re a little bit scattered about the place now, but you can always tell a Harley-English by their looks. She’s got eyes that are just as sharp green as John’s are blue and her hair was dark brown when you were kids, but the sun has bleached it out so that it’s more golden brown now.

Bro used to tease you about marrying her someday, but that just isn’t how you and Jade work. You’re too good at being friends to be anything else. Plus, she’s kind of dating your cousin.

“I stopped by the shop, but Bro said you went to hang out with the new kid,” she grumbles, finally loosening her grip on you enough that you can wiggle out of her arms.

“Had to help with a delivery to his place,” you correct and continue walking back to the shop.

“What’s he like?” she asks, skipping along next to you.

You think back to him for a moment before answering.

“He isn’t like what we normally see, that was obvious from the start. No douchebag reek or designer clothes, just some cargo pants and an old t-shirt.”

When you turn to look at her you find her staring up at you in excitement, which is pretty much what you expected. You know the feeling all too well.

“So is he nice, too?”

“Yeah, I guess. A little quiet, but it didn’t seem like he was trying to act too cool to talk to me. It was more like he was just shy or something.”

“Oh, a shy boy! That’s a new one.”

“It’s hard to be sure, but I think he might do well here.”

The chatter continues on, always circling back to John. Did he have a thick accent? Was he funny? What’s his favorite color? She gets more absurd as the night goes on and at some point you just start making things up. Jade stays with you at the shop until closing time, which has become a usual thing. That’s when the stereo comes out.

Jade used to have a garden back when she was a kid. Before her grandma passed away, she’d sing to the flowers to get them to grow. Jade’s about as good at playing the flute as she is at something that she does really badly, and all that you’ve got is rap music that you’re kind of starting to hate. Everyone still loves your colorful shop and everything, but the flowers are wilting and the leaves are shriveling up. If you don’t get it all under control, you might have a serious problem soon.

That night you and Jade settle down in the treehouse for your usual Friday night sleepover. Bro first built the thing for you back when you were tiny kids, then he rebuilt it when you got too big. There’s doodles on the wall and important dates to remember, along with the names of all of the so-called “friends” that have passed through. Almost all of them have been scribbled out in furious fits of hatred. Only your name and Jade’s remain untouched.

“Dave?” she calls out, once it’s gotten dark and you’ve both settled into your sleeping bags.

“Yeah, Jade?”

“What if he isn’t like the others?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’ll be different, maybe he won’t. We’ll have to wait and see.”

“Maybe he won’t leave,” she murmurs after a few minutes.

“Maybe,” you reply.

Silence follows until morning. It’s a dreamless, restful sleep that you find being invaded by something that sounds annoyingly familiar. You wake to green eyes staring into yours and a sweet voice giggling far too close to your ear.

“Sleepyhead, you’re going to be late for work!”

Nobody who works at a flower shop in a small town should have to wake up before nine. By seven thirty, you’ve got your shorts on and a basket on your back. This time it’s to the scary old Asian grandmother’s house. She moved here ages ago with her husband back when they were young. He, of course, left for another woman the moment that she got a single wrinkle. She’s a bit bitter at, oh, just about everything. Much to your relief, you don’t make it halfway there without running into a certain blue-eyed boy.

“Hey!” you call out, waving to him.

“Hi, Dave!” he smiles and jogs over.

“Where are you off to this early in the morning?” you ask, adjusting your glasses against the sun.

A stutter of a lie builds on his tongue before he settles on the truth. “I’m just trying to figure out where everything is.”

“If you want to walk with me while I drop these off, I could give you a tour. Not much work right now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” that’s actually not true, but Bro will understand.

“Sounds good!” he says, skipping along.

John seems to be a little less shy today and you manage to keep him talking all the way to Mrs. Mitchell’s house. The two of you find her waiting on her porch. She takes her flowers with raw eyes and a raspy voice, silently handing you your payment. The old bat must be feeling generous because she actually gave you a delivery tip. You tell that he’s missing out. She gives a half-hearted glare and goes inside.

“What was that about?” John questions solemnly as you both walk away.

“She got dumped by her husband a zillion years ago today,” you shrug. “Ready for this tour?”

“Sure!”

Right down the road is your dinky little school. One story, bare minimum teachers, and classes of fifteen, tops. It’ll be super easy compared to wherever he came from. If you walk one block from there and up for a while, you get to the main street. There’s the family owned stores, the few cafés and restaurants, and the arcade that serves as the main teenage gathering point. You and Jade steer clear due to the fact that they all hate you. John is heavily advised to do the same.

“That’s pretty much it. If you walk up the road and between the really floral house and the house with purple accents, you just have to walk up for a while before getting to your street. The rest will come with time and boredom,” you finish, stopping in front of the flower shop.

“Where do you live?” he asks innocently.

You’re shocked into silence for a moment. Not once in your life do you remember anyone actually asking that. Jade has always known and the rest just don’t care. You decide that Jade might just be right. John could be different after all.

“Uh, hello? Earth to Dave?”

“Sorry,” you reply, shaking your head. “I’m up above the shop. Little apartment. There’s a great tree house out back, you should come check it out. Jade’s dying to meet you, too, and she’s bound to be here somewhere.”

“Not right now, I actually have to get home. We’re still unpacking stuff. Maybe tomorrow, though?” he asks hopefully.

“Tomorrow, for sure.”

That goofy smile of his widens again and he walks off with a shout and a wave. You head back into the shop and take Bro’s shit for being out with the new kid instead of working. He’s got you on double duty for the rest of the day. When you share the news with Jade around closing time, she’s ecstatic. Neither of you know if he’s really worth caring about yet, but you’re going to find out. Tomorrow you’re going to know and you have a feeling that things are looking up.


	3. White Carnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nadiya was my beta, I'm just the silly person who writes things and then forgets to post them for three weeks. It's up now, though! I hope that you enjoy!

***

The next day is a rare one where you live. Clouds shield your town from the sun, giving you a welcomed day of reasonable temperatures, at least in comparison to the typical hundred-plus thing you’ve had going on. Since the day was slow due to most of your usual customers hiding from the promised rain, Bro let you go early. It was just in time for Jade to make an appearance. She bounced along, shoving an already partially-melted strawberry cheesecake ice cream cone at you. Trailing behind her was a predictably quiet John, keeping an iron grip on the cone of blue moon that he was desperately - and futilely - trying to save.

“What did you do, Jade? Kidnap him?” you ask with a smirk, but she just rolls her eyes.

“Oh, shut up! He was on his way here already!” she replies, pushing you lightly.

“Well, if that’s the case, we should probably get in then,” you suggest, motioning to the store.

Jade charges ahead, almost too excited for her own good. You let her pass to stay back with John. He still seems nervous about this, but you doubt that he’s really that quiet. He just doesn’t strike you as the kind to sit there without saying a word. In fact, you bet that he used to get in trouble at his old school for talking too much.

For a moment you what his old school was like. You’ve never known anything more than the small, ever-constant classes of your local k-12 school, but it isn’t a secret that your town isn’t always the norm. Maybe he spent his time walking immense hallways and darting between upperclassmen instead of slowly wandering around the little kids. In your head, his lunch room swells to fit thousands of noisy teens. Glass windows stretch multiple floors to fit everyone and everything that such a populated place has to offer. Your little single-story prison is nothing compared to his massive castle. A familiar and unwelcome emptiness strikes you. The city boys always leave. With a chuckle, you shake your head.

He’s different.

He has to be.

“She’s kind of creepy,” he mutters, pulling you out of your fit of self-doubt.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s just happy that we got to you first,” you assure him, patting him on the back and pushing him into the shop.

“What do you mean by ‘got to me first?’” he asks as he heads for the back door, offering Bro a quick wave.

“Normally nobody really sees the new kids until school, so the jackasses get to everyone first. Even if they don’t, nobody sticks around for long.”

“Oh.”

There isn’t time for an awkward silence; you’re already out back and he’s staring up at the treehouse in wonder. Nobody is sure how old the tree is, but it’s the biggest one around. There’s knobs and branches sticking every which way, so it’s great for climbing. There also happened to be some huge support branches that hold up your enormous wooden fortress.

“Welcome to the treehouse,” you say and Jade finishes with a whoop from the top of the ladder.

Both of you scramble up the ladder, carefully cradling ice cream cones and laughing when you still end up smeared with blue goop. When you throw a chunk of ice cream-covered cheesecake at him, he manages to catch it in his mouth.

The three of you spend the entire day in the tree. Jade demonstrates her monkey-like abilities by jumping around the branches while you and John watch from the reinforced roof of the house. Eventually, Bro throws deli sandwiches up to you. It wasn’t hard to catch them, but you gained a bruise from the bottles of water that followed. John just laughed and threw the pickles at you. At about five, Jade had to make her way back home. John chose to stay for dinner. It was just some TV dinners, but you had enough fun throwing soggy corn at each other. Once the sunset poked through the dark clouds, John prepared to go as well. Just as he starts descending the rope ladder, the first droplet hits your skin. A rumble sounds in the distance.

“Oh shit,” you mutter, scrambling down. “Help me out. We have about two minutes before all hell breaks loose.”

“What do you mean?” he asks innocently.

“Help me get these flowers into the store,” you direct instead answering, picking up flats and shoving them onto the nearest cart.

“What’s going on?”

“A thunderstorm is what’s going on, John.”

There are thunderstorms all around the world, so of course John knows what a thunderstorm is. He just doesn’t seem sure why you’re so concerned about getting the flowers inside. A bit of rain couldn’t hurt them, right? Still, Bro is out the door as soon as you enters with the first cart, so seems to figure out that something is up. He passes you on his way in with a loaded cart and seems a little frazzled.

In the end, what could have taken half an hour is done in a little over five minutes. When you’re both finished, you crowd back into the tree house. Bro shouts after you that he’ll call John’s dad. With a nod, you push the curtain away and roll down the plastic tarp that seals you off from the rain. Once you’re done you sigh, flopping down on the floor and putting your hands behind your head.

“Thanks for that,” you say. “Leaving them out in heavy rain isn’t really a good thing and we don’t need anymore dead flowers.”

“Why, are you having problems with the flowers?”

“They’re just wilting for no good reason and we can’t figure out how to fix them,” you shrug. “We tried supplements, different amounts of light and water, new dirt, and pretty much everything out there.”

“Did you try playing music?” John asks jokingly.

“Sort of, all we’ve got is shitty rap music,” you mutter.

“Well, why don’t I try to help?” John suggests, sitting forward. “I can play the piano, so why don’t I bring in my keyboard and see if it works?”

“Wait, really?” you ask, turning and leaning on your elbow to look at him.

“Yeah,” he replies, grinning. “But there’s one condition.”

“Okay, what is is?”

“Tell me why you’re actually wearing those sunglasses,” he demands.

“That’s kind of a silly condition, isn’t it?”

“Oh, come on! It can’t be that bad, can it?”

Not really, no. Your eyes are just photosensitive, which means that every waking moment that you don’t have them on is a moment of agony. Plus, you could go blind if you expose your eyes to too much light. Not that bad at all.

“Come on, Dave,” he pleads, shaking your shoulder.

“Fine, fine! Geez Egbert, chill,” you chuckle and push his hands away. “The sunglasses are a medical thing, but the daggers are because my brother’s an idiot and I’m too lazy to go buy new ones.”

Well, sort of, but it’s more because these dumbass anime shades are kind of representative of everything you’ve ever done. You can’t remember a time when you didn’t have them fixed to your face. They’re pretty much a part of you at this point. If you just let them go and find something more normal, then who are you? It isn’t like your new friend needs to know that, though. He could still disappear or worse.

“Maybe I’ll just have to find you some then,” he laughs.

You and John settle into an easy conversation, listening to the sounds of the storm. He laughs when you jump at a particularly loud clap of thunder, only let out a surprised yelp when the next one hits. The whole tree shakes and you try to reassure him that you aren’t going to die. It takes a few hours of messing around on half-broken DS lites, eating puffy cheetos, and feeling the treehouse sway slightly in the wind for your eyes to start drooping. You estimate the time to be about three in the morning. John hasn’t chugged quite as many cans of soda as you have, so he’s already half passed out on the floor. All that you can do at this point is toss a pillow at him, which he groggily slides under his head. He’s already asleep by the time that you throw a light blanket over him.

Settling on the floor, you look over to him again. Never before has anyone been so excited just to talk to you. If you don’t lose the new guys to the kids at school, they’re always relatively disinterested until the day that they move away. This is new. As abnormally fluffy and sweet as it might seem, you’re willing to admit that you’re happy about that. It’s only been a day and it feels like you’ve known him for years.

“Dave?” he calls out quietly, voice dragging with sleep.

“Yeah?” you whisper, though you aren’t entirely sure why.

“You take those things off to sleep, right?” he asks with his eyes still closed.

“Of course,” you chuckle. “I’m not that insane.”

Resting your head on a pillow of your own, you listen to the rain that is still gently falling onto the waterproof roof of the treehouse. You don’t remember anything after that until the sun starts to peek over the horizon. The memory only really surfaces a while later, or so it seems. Both you and John had rolled a bit in your sleep, shifting until you were pressed back to back. Startled by the sudden contact, you had turned to figure out what was up against you, only to fall back into sleep almost instantly. Some would call it too close to comfort. He must have as well because by the time that you wake up, he’s no longer on the floor next to you. You’re surprised to find that your shades have been placed back on your face, shielding your eyes from the open door and bright sun. John’s obviously already up and about. When you finally drag yourself to your feet, you see him perched on the door ledge. He jumps a bit when you flop down next to him.

“Morning,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes under your shades.

“Afternoon,” he corrects and holds up his phone. “You sleep for ages.”

“Shit man, I’m sorry. How long have you been up?”

“Just a half hour or so, but it’s fine,” he says with a shrug. “It’s pretty out.”

The way he says it seems so confident, as if it is more of a fact than an opinion. You can’t deny that the sun is out. It’s already beaming down and drying up last night’s rain, but the little clouds that are floating in the sky offer enough shade to keep things bearable. It amazes you how John can just sit here for half an hour staring at the sky.

“Hey John, I’ve got a really dumb question.”

“Okay, go ahead,” he says, shifting to look at you.

“How long are you and your dad staying here?”

He falls silent for a moment, eyes scrunching up in confusion. You’re pretty sure that he even tilts his head like a puppy would. After a moment, he just laughs and leans back on his hands.

“Don’t worry, Dave. I’m not going to disappear on you,” he promises. “We’re going to be here until I graduate, if not longer.”

“Awesome,” you reply simply.

“I’ve got to head home; we’re still unpacking,” he announces, rising to his feet and grabbing his stuff. “I just didn’t want to leave before you got up.”

“Alright, see you later,” you say with a wave as his starts climbing down the ladder.

“Hey,” he calls up after he’s reached the bottom. “Why don’t we go to the arcade later?”

“No way,” you reply, chuckling. “That place isn’t for us.”

“Why don’t we make it for us?” he suggests with that goddamned innocent smile. “And after that we can run back to my place to grab the keyboard.”

“Alright, Egbert,” you sigh. “We’ll play it your way. Tomorrow at noon?”

“Sounds good! I’m going to kick your ass in everything they’ve got,” he assures you and waves as he walks back through the store.

The rest of the day is spent in a hurry. You’ve got to set the flowers out and catch up on all of the orders that were delayed by last night’s storm. Bro just chuckles when you walk in with an extra spring in your step. It’s obvious to both of you and always has been, but now it’s pretty much official.

You’re fucked.


	4. Black Poplar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The betas for this chapter were McKenna and Eli! Fun fact, this chapter is almost as long as the first three combined. I hope that you guys enjoy it!
> 
> Also, almost every chapter in this fic was written to the Homestuck album "One Year Older" or the Tsuritama OST.

***

There’s nothing in the world like waking up on that sunny Saturday morning. It brings a sense of unrushed peace that you haven’t felt since your dad broke the news back in Washington. When your alarm buzzes at 9am, the sun is just barely peeking through your window. Eventually it will rise high enough to bake you alive, but for now its only job is to make the sky look like someone splattered paint all over it. You sit up and stretch.

It takes a good half hour, but eventually the smell of bacon calls you down the unfamiliar stairs of your little house. Your dad is positioned over the stove in the kitchen, calmly flipping pancakes and scooting the sizzling meat around so that it doesn’t burn. As per tradition, you fetch the syrup from the lazy susan and pour two glasses of juice. He’s already finished by the time that the table is set.

“Did you sleep well?” your dad inquires.

For a moment you consider mumbling around the pancakes, but decide against it and settle for a nod. He smiles as you ask the same of him. However angry you were at him for forcing this new life on you, the breakfast table small talk has been missed. The amount of leftovers have been a dead giveaway that he’s been waiting for you to join him again.

“So, why the change of heart?” he asks between bites.

You chuckle and look down sheepishly, “I was wrong.”

He smiles softly, without even a hint of resentment for the long weeks that you’ve been ignoring him, and the two of you continue with your casual morning banter. His job starts on Monday, so you’ll be on your own most of the time after that. School starts in a month and a half or so. He’ll set your bed up properly that afternoon so that you won’t be sleeping on a pile of mattresses anymore. In a few weekends, he wants to paint some of the rooms of the house. You agree to ask Dave where one would buy paint in this town. Before long, the plates are empty and he’s going to head upstairs while you complete your half of the breakfast duties.

“Oh, and Dad?” you call his attention as you start to scrub the plates clean.

“Yes?” he replies, pausing at the stairs.

“I’m going to go hang out with Dave in the arcade today.”

“There’s coins in the mug on top of the microwave,” he smiles and disappears.

Your chest is tight with excitement, the same tightness that seems to linger when you get to hang out with Dave, so you shower quickly and throw on some clean clothes. The coins weigh your pockets down, reminding you of your middle school days. Unfortunately, you realize too late that you’ve misjudged your timing. By the time that you arrive at the shop, you still have an hour to waste. You wonder if you’ll die of boredom. Luckily, Jade intercepts you with a cheerful grin and a light laugh.

“John, I’m glad you’re here! I’ve got someone that you should meet!”

At a quick glance, you would have mistaken the guy in front of you for Dave. They have the same haircut, though Dave’s hair is lighter. Instead of the dumb pointy things, he has normal clear glasses that aren’t thick enough to distort his golden-brown eyes at all.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m John,” you say, extending a hand as a customary gesture.

To your surprise, he returns the shake firmly. He gives you an honest smile with a familiar mouth. You’re starting to feel uncomfortable, but in a more subtle way than normal. It’s as if someone shifted everything in the universe over two inches. It just isn’t right.

“Name’s David,” he replies, releasing your hand. “I take it Dave hasn’t mentioned his evil twin yet?”

Evil... what?

“Oh, shut up,” Jade’s laugh is like a ringing bell and she turns to you. “They aren’t twins, it’s just an unfortunate coincidence. He’s Dave’s cousin.”

“And your boyfriend,” David pipes up, poking her in the side and sending her shrieking.

“Oh!” you exclaim in surprise, laughing along with Jade.

It surprises you, to be honest. Somehow you assumed that Jade and Dave would be together if anyone was. They seemed to be so close, after all. Despite all of that, Jade settles her hand into David’s and smiles up at you.

“We were just going to go in and surprise Dave,” she motions to the Striders’ shop a few stores over.

“I just got back from visiting my family in New York,” David explains. “I’ve been living down here for the past couple of years and going to school in Houston, but I make a point to visit in the summer.”

“Really? What do you study?” you ask curiously.

He laughs, “Dave really didn’t say anything, did he?”

“No, sorry,” you admit and for some reason feel guilty.

“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t even know I was coming back before September, so he probably just didn’t bother,” He assures you. “I’m just taking my basic classes at a community college right now, but after this next year I’ll be going into robotic engineering.”

“That sounds really cool!”

“It is!” Jade confirms. “You should see the stuff he builds. It’s unreal.”

A loud vibration calls a pause in the conversation and David sighs, reaching into his pocket with his free hand. After glancing at the screen, he rolls his eyes and tucks it away again.

“The twin beckons.”

David leads the way through the store this time. He turns through a door that you had assumed just led to the back room or something. There are a few empty pots, but nothing else of interest until you reach the stairs in the corner. As you ascend them, you realize that it’s probably where Dave and his older brother live. David reaches the door to the apartment first, swinging it open and instantly exploding with laughter. Jade pushes him out of the way, only to fall into a similar fit. Once she moves to the side, you realize what they found so hilarious.

In the middle of an enormous pile of balloons, streamers, and confetti sits a silly string-covered and upset Dave Strider. A banner hangs overhead with ‘by the way, your cousin’s here’ printed in rainbow comic sans. The two in the hall haven’t stopped laughing yet.

Despite your own chuckles, you step in to help Dave up. The poor guy is still in his what must be his PJs and he adjusts the waistband of his boxers, looking up at you hopelessly. His black tank top will forever be stained with silly string. A popped balloon is hanging off of his sunglasses. You’ve never seen anyone look more pitiful.

“You’re early,” he rasps.

“If you hurry, you can still meet me outside at noon and I’ll never know that anything happened.”

“You’re all dead to me,” he says, sticking his tongue out like a child. “I’m taking a shower, someone else can clean this crap up.”

When he returns half an hour later, not a piece of confetti has been touched. David and Jade sit on the couch holding plastic wheels. The three of you all screech at the screen in unison as they both fly off of the rainbow again. Dave is forced to tap you on the shoulder before you even notice that he’s behind you.

“Still up for the arcade, or has the evil one stolen your heart?” he jokes, glancing at David.

“I didn’t carry around five pounds of quarters for nothing,” you smirk, pushing him to the door. “You ready for a beatdown?”

He laughs all the way down the stairs.

The arcade is a few doors down from the flower shop. Between the two is a hardware store where you and your dad can get your paint, the butcher’s shop, and a clothing store that takes up the space of two stores. Dave waves through the window of the latter, and a slender Indian girl smiles back. When she realizes where he’s walking, her smile falters and she crosses the store, intercepting the two of you at the door.

“Dave, are you insane?” she asks, obviously concerned.

“Yeah, but it’s good,” he assures her. “Heard from my dear cousin lately?”

“She wants you to call her, but that’s not the pressing matter right now.”

“Dave, what’s going on?” you ask, breaking into their little conversation.

“This is Kanaya. Kanaya, this is John,” Dave introduces. “She’s just worrying too much.”

“It’s warranted,” she reminds him. “It is nice to meet you, though, John. I hope you enjoy it here.”

“I think I’m starting to,” you admit with a smile.

“Just keep an eye out for us, okay?” Dave says, waving to her and pulling you away.

With a sigh, she wishes the two of you luck and walks back into the store, but you notice her prop the door open before she settles back to the desk. Dave has already reached the open door of the arcade and is waiting for you to catch up, so you hurry over. He hesitates as he steps inside and turns back to you.

“This place isn’t for us,” he tells you again, repeating his protest from the day before. “If something happens, you need to stay out of it.”

“Okay,” you agree, rolling your eyes and smirking.

He seems satisfied with that, so he turns back to the door and walks in with what appears to be relaxed confidence. Biting back a chuckle at how overly dramatic he’s being about this, you follow him in. The arcade isn’t anything special. There’s DDR in the corner, a few racing games, some with guns attached, and plenty of variety in other consoles. You try not to notice the eyes that settle on you the moment that you step through the door.

“John, which one do you want to play first?” Dave asks you, looking around.

“How about that one?” you suggest, pointing to an empty racing game.

“Sounds good.”

You do, in fact, beat Dave’s ass. He’s so embarrassed that he calls rookie’s luck and demands another round. Laughing, you insert three more quarters and decide not to mention that you used to play this game every weekend in Washington. By the time that you’re almost done beating him yet again, you remember how ominous his warnings were. You start chuckling and turn to him to jest a little bit about his silly paranoia.

What you see instead is a very large, tan teenager grabbing the shirt of a terrified Dave. With what seems to be no effort, the stranger throws him to the floor. You’re left paralyzed with fear, knuckles white on the plastic steering wheel, wide eyed and watching as they all laugh. Dave stands quickly, casting a warning look at you.

“What makes you think you can just waltz in here and take a seat, Strider?” the big one cackles.

“You don’t own this place, jackass,” Dave shoots back, earning another laugh from the gathering crowd.

“This is my turf, nerd. Go back and play with your flowers,” he snarls.

“Nah, I’m good. I like it in here. I was kind of in the middle of a game, though, so...” he tries to step back to the game and earns a solid punch in the solar plexus for it.

He doubles over, coughing and wheezing, but isn’t even given a moment of rest before another fist sends him reeling, glasses falling to the floor. Immediately, he shields his eyes with his hands, squinting as though it hurts to see without them. You remember his mentions of medical need and wince in imagination of what it has to feel like.

“You know what? I’m sick of this shit,” he declares, rasping and climbing to his feet. “Fuck you.”

“Oh, fuck _me_?”

Laughter.

“Fuck _you_ , Strider.”

Dave takes on a look that you’ve never seen outside of the movies. He is dwarfed under this enormous bully, but stands tall and looks him straight in the eyes, though his are squinted to mere slits and you suspect that he can’t see. Before he says a word, he moves closer.

“You,” he begins, jabbing a finger into the chest of the guy in front of him. “You are a manipulative asshole. Nobody likes you, they’re just scared shittless to get on your bad side. If you were like the rest of us you’d be a dropout and stuck in juvie by now, but your daddy’s a cop, so you get a free pass.”

The group around them grows quiet as Dave talks, seeming to have lost their sense of humor. Their eyes widen and whispers pass between those that are close enough. You find yourself rising, as if you aren’t controlling your body, to stand closer to the ring of people that has built. There’s an opening right by the chairs that you slide into to watch this unfold. His words ring in your head; “stay out of it.”

“Even if someone calls the cops right now, your dad will just show up and tell everyone to quit it. Even if I tried to file assault charges, which I could, he’d find some way to get you out of it. Your brother was a shithead who beat on you because your mom didn’t take him with her when she left for her new family. You’re a shithead who beats on us because your brother taught you that if you want respect, you’ve got to beat the living shit out of people.

“That isn’t fucking respect, that’s fear.”

He punches Dave hard enough that he spins and falls to the floor.

When Dave stands, the look on his face is of pure intensity. For his entire life, he has been fucked with by assholes like this. That was the last straw. Instead of wailing on him, though, Dave takes a turn for the insane. As Dave starts laughing, you find a smile. The big guy in front of him seems to shrink as Dave squints and cackles like a maniac, blood dripping down his chin from his split lip. Those around you stare on, their faces a mix of horror and excitement. Some smile along with you. For the first time, the asshole in front of you looks uncertain.

Dave’s first punch is thrown madly without aiming, but once he has the jerk’s attention, things get serious. He slams his fist into the guy’s jaw. When his wrist is grabbed he doesn’t pause, instead using it to gain some momentum so that he can spin around and ram his knee into the stomach of his assailant. After that sends the larger teen to the ground, Dave turns his back on the fight to walk away. Faces stare on in confusing and the creepy kid next to you whispers, “don’t turn your back on the body.”

With a roar of anger, the larger teen launches himself off of the ground and uses every bit of muscle he has to crush Dave’s arms against his body. Before he can pick Dave up to throw him, however, Dave bends his knees. The change of weight distribution throws the other guy off. Dave uses that time to sidestep within the strong grip and swing his left leg behind his assailant’s right. After struggling for a moment in the awkward position, he finally manages to balance for long enough to sweep his leg. They both go down, but Dave is the one who rises.

The entire thing is over in less than a minute.

“Lesson learned, I hope,” he pants.

With that, the police cars begin to pull up in front of the arcade. As Dave predicted, the first officer in looks nearly identical to the bully that is laying stunned on the ground. The only true difference is that the father does not share his son’s dip-dyed spikes. Once the officer confirms that his son is alive, he turns on Dave.

“You have the right to remain silent; Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.”

“There’s nothing to charge him with,” a girl in the crowd protests, cutting off the recitation.

As the officer looks to the source of the voice, a short girl with a wide grin and a cane appears out of the crowd.

“Have you ever heard of assault, little miss?” the officer snaps.

“Yes, but the only one here who could be charged with that is him,” she announces, pointing slightly to the right of the boy who is now slowly sitting up. “It was self defense.”

“She’s right, your kid swung first,” the girl with spider web tights next to her points out.

Voices around the circle rise to support their claims. The hipster that is standing next to a girl who appears to be halfway to a hippie mutters something about the security camera, earning a nod from the stoner-looking kid next to him.

“Well, we at least need to take you in for questioning,” the officer argues, looking back to the other blues for help.

“All that I can tell you is that I was a racing game with John, but was dragged out of my chair without warning and beat up,” Dave says. “I’ll have bruises to prove it if you’re patient.”

It takes a bit of arguing between the officers, but they agree to take the dip-dye asshole to the hospital and leave everyone else alone. They wish everyone a good day and pull out, leaving the shrunken circle to fend for themselves. Most of the people went home once things stopped being interesting. Kanaya had walked over about halfway through the negotiations, but hasn’t said a word. Immediately the group falls into an awkward silence. You’re starting to get the feeling that most of them don’t actually know each other.

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” the spider web girl finally says.

“I just was sick of his shit,” Dave shrugs, still squinting.

“Are you okay?” the girl with the cane asks.

“Yeah, you don’t have to feel me up or anything. Just a split lip and some bruises.”

“You’re an idiot, Dave,” Kanaya sighs, getting only a chuckle from him.

“While we’re here, I might as well introduce you to the new guy.”

Smooth move, Dave. Attention off of himself and onto you.

“John, the pretty lady with the cane is Terezi. She just so happens to be blind and a future lawyer. Spiderbitch there is Vriska. Stoner’s Gamzee, don’t buy anything from him. Eridan’s the hipster and his girlfriend there is Feferi. Nobody expects you to remember anyone’s name, so don’t worry about it.”

They wave as he introduces them, giving polite smiles and sometimes a quiet “nice to meet you.” He introduces you and you do similarly. Before the silence can stretch too far again, Dave has a simple request, “John, can you hand me my shades? My eyes are killing me.”

Looking down, you all notice one by one that the dagger-like glasses lay on the ground in pieces, crushed by someone’s foot in the frenzy of the fight. With a soft sigh, Feferi helps you sweep up the pieces while Dave stands silently. His eyes are closed and he gives no sign of knowing what is going on until he cups his hands to take the broken pieces. When your hands brush against his, you notice how tense they are. How tense he is in general, really.

“Come on, Dave, we should go back to the apartment,” you suggest quietly, pulling him in the direction of the door.

To your surprise, he goes with you willingly. On the way out, he pauses to dump the shards into the trashcan. He doesn’t say anything when David notices his wounds or when Jade shouts and jumps up from the couch, leaving you to explain for him. When David asks if he’s alright, he only gives a curt nod. While you follow him to his room, careful to keep him from crashing into the walls, David rummages around for the first aid kit and Jade puts some ice in a baggie.

Once they close the door behind them, you put what you learned in that dumb first aid class to good use. The first thing that you do is lightly press the ice bag to his cheek, which earns you a hiss of pain. Still, he holds it there while you go for the first aid box. It only takes a bit of alcohol and a bandage to deal with his lip. He takes the ibuprofin that you give him without asking what it is and flops back on the bed, still holding the ice back to his cheek.

“Close the blinds and turn off the lights,” he commands after you’ve finished packing up the kit.

You do so quickly and rest your hand on the door handle. You cast a lingering look over to him, still flopped on the bed, and twist it reluctantly. He shoots upright at its squeak, “John, wait.”

“What is it?” you ask, turning back to him.

“If you want you can stay for dinner,” he offers and rubs at his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, when am I not?” he jokes, wincing when he smiles.

“Sounds good to me,” you say, pushing the door closed again and dropping onto the end of his bed.

“Thank you,” he finally says after a moment of silence.

“For what?” you scoff. “Putting a bandaid on you? It was no big deal.”

“No, for getting me to go in there.”

“Dave, I got you beat up,” you point out.

“No, you didn’t. That’s been a long time coming. Someone just needed to do it and nobody’s had the courage since Tavros went in there.”

“Who’s Tavros?”

At this, Dave sighs and looks over at you. Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t what you saw. You’ve heard of albinos. There’s a picture online of a kid with milky red eyes who is legally blind, even with thick prescription sunglasses. Dave isn’t an albino. His skin is tan, but not burned at all. His eyes aren’t milky and he seems to be able to see fine without those glasses. Still, you could swear that his eyes are red.

“Tavros is the sweetest kid ever. When they were little, Vriska pushed him out of a tree because they were fighting. He hasn’t been able to walk ever since.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp.

“Yeah, well, it gets worse. One day, Vriska decided to take him into the arcade to play some games. Like he would have to anyone else, that lump of shit started pushing at him. He wouldn’t listen to Vriska or anything, just kept messing with him. Tavros tried to stand up to him. He got a concussion and a permanent stutter in return.”

“That asshole is the true definition of a shithead,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“Yeah,” Dave laughs. “Which is why it’s so big that you got me in there. He won’t be messing with anyone now. His dad will probably even chew him out properly. The school will be one step closer to being a decent place and it’s all thanks to you.”

Laughing, you fall back on the sheets. The two of you stay that way until dinner is called. When you finally get back home, your dad is just pulling some brownies out of the oven. He thought that you might want to bring some over to the Striders tomorrow. You go through your money and find that you’ve got just enough for your plans as well. That night, you slip off to sleep thinking about fiery red eyes and a southern accent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is with a sincere apology that I'm telling you this, but I will not be continuing this fic. I just don't have the will to finish it at this point. I hope that you will be able to forgive me for dropping them. Though I never intended to, I've moved on from the Homestuck fandom. If you want to, you are welcome to create related works and carry the story on. I'd love to see someone write more of this.


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